


Let's Take This Love And Run

by WaywardSonsAndBlazingGuns



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 12x02, Brother Feels, Episode Fix-it, Feels, Hallucinations, Lucifer - Freeform, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Sam Has Panic Attacks, That Hug We Deserved, What Every Bibro Needs, a much needed conversation, memories from the cage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-24 01:09:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8350426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaywardSonsAndBlazingGuns/pseuds/WaywardSonsAndBlazingGuns
Summary: 12x02 sucked. Here, take this fic and let's call it the deleted scene we never got. Here to fulfill all your bibro needs. Feels ahead.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Let me thank Alisa, Anne, Kaylee and Sam. Y'all are sweethearts. Alisa is Satan but whatever.

A little past midnight and a little before the crack of dawn, when the night was at the perfect spot, right in the middle; too late to be called night, too early to be called morning. Sam lay in bed, still in jeans and a t shirt, not quite ready to change into comfortable clothes and settle in for sleep. The fan was turning above his head, his eyes tracking the movement of its wings. He was lost in thought, a little drenched in guilt and overwhelmed by circumstance and bursting with relief and something he wasn’t quite sure could qualify as happiness.

Emotional overload.

The past few days he’d been through a lot. He’d felt a lot but had no other option than to shove it all inside to deal with at some later point. The pain and agony both physical, emotional and mental, loneliness and desperation, violation and anger and betrayal (the latter was aimed at himself, for not seeing and sensing what was being done to him sooner), the relief that his brother was alive and somehow their mother had returned. All of it – it was too much.

There was a knock on his open door. His brother stood there with beer bottles clutched in both hands and a small smile playing on his lips, “Hey.”

Sam sat up and waited for him to make way inside, toe off his boots and sit across from him. Dean offered him a bottle and crossed his legs.

“Dude.” Sam scrunched his nose as he took the offered bottle.

Dean glanced at his feet and sniffed, “’s not that bad, you’ve dealt with worse.”

“I have to sleep on this bed, moron.”

Much to Sam’s annoyance, his brother proceeded to rub his feet into the blanket, “Happy?”

There was a huffed laugh and a “child” muttered under his breath as he brought the bottle to his lips.

“Besides, you weren’t gonna sleep tonight anyways. I saw you boring a hole into the roof with your eyes.”

“How long were you standing there?”

“Long enough to know you were reliving it.”

Silence filled in as a suitable answer.

“What’d she do to you, man?”

“Question is what didn’t she do to me?” Sam shook his head, “Most of it is gone now anyways.”

Dean arched an eyebrow in question.

“Most of the evidence. Scars and wounds and shit.”

“What’s left then?”

“Memories. Cas said I’d have headaches for a while – y’know, side effect of almost having your brain liquefied.” He shrugged.

Sam looked up from the label that he was trying to peel off. Dean was watching him.

“What?”

He watched his jaw unclench, “I wanted to kill her.”

“Surprised you didn’t.”

Eye contact broke and Sam continued to stare.

“I still have pie on my face?”

Sam exhaled heavily, “No – just. You were gone. I thought I’d see you on the other side in a couple of days. Mom too for that matter.”

“Sorry have you met us? We don’t die - that’s been established.”

Sam shook his head with a smile, he paused briefly, “I heard your voice after they drugged me.”

“What did I say?”

Dean watched his eyes widen in fear for a brief second before he shook his head like a child.

He inched a little closer, voice dropping to comfort him, “Sam, come on, what did I say?”

“I kept seeing … I saw-“, A hitched breath, clearing of his throat, “I saw Kevin, Sarah, You … I saw Mom, Meg too…”

“ _Meg?_ ”

“Jess…” Sam could see it all right in front of his eyes, a horrid replay, death clouding his thoughts and tears blurring his vision, “Your voice – kept telling me it was all my fault, that you were dead because of me, that it should’ve been me instead of everyone-“

“-Sam..”

“That I was … the freak … the monster-“

“Sammy-“

“Told me to – just” voice thick and hoarse with emotion, Sam made no attempt to wipe the tears that were finally falling, “Told me to just die.” Came the whisper.

Dean’s shocked, “ _Sam”_ was muffled by the fabric of Sam’s shirt and the younger brother suddenly found himself in Dean’s embrace. He was shocked but his arms wrapped around him like a reflex. They stayed like that for a while: silent, teary eyed, breathing slowly and arms tightening every time emotions got a little too intense.

Dean pulled away first, cupping Sam’s face, “Sammy…”

The word was uttered gently but carried unimaginable weight and had enough force to convey everything Dean wanted to express. And Sam was the only one on the entire damned universe with the ability to understand Dean even if he did not say the words at all.

Dean’s thumb brushed his cheek, “Damn it, Sam. If I’m the voice in your head then … You know that I would never say that to you. Those are the last things I would say to you. _Ever_. If you ever hear me talking then it’s gotta be stuff like, ‘don’t forget the pie.’ Or ‘I’m proud of you.’ Or ‘I got your back.’ Or ‘You’re strong enough.’ Sammy you don’t deserve this guilt on your shoulders.”

Sam nodded like he was five years old again.

“And if you’re hell bent on shouldering this load then – lemme share the burden.”

“Got it.”

Dean patted him lightly on the cheek and smirked, “If every time you think, you hear my voice – then we got a serious problem here.”

Sam smiled, “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Cause I’ve been hearing your voice in my head for an unreasonable amount of time, bitch.”

Sam laughed. _Finally_. Dean exhaled, relieved, breathing a little easier.

“Really? What do I tell you?”

“You guilt trip me every time I order a double cheese burger.”

They shared a laugh after what seemed the longest time. Dean got up, grabbing the empty bottle from Sam’s hand, “You gonna sleep?”

“Not tonight … not right now anyways.”

“C’mon.” Dean offered him a hand.

“Where we goin?”

“On a drive.”

\-----

They drove until the trees gave way to a clearing and the clearing ended in a cliff. The car was put in park, their legs dangled over the edge and they spent a good two hours in conversation and thought. Bringing each other up to speed to what was going on their respective heads and hearts.

“Does your head hurt right now?”

“Not at the moment, no.”

A breeze blew through the trees, “Dean – she …. She did things to me. My head.”

“The voices?”

Sam straightened his back for confession, “No, Dean … she … there was a hallucination. She … seduced me. Raped me.”

Dean’s eyes widened, “What the fuck?”

“In my head. It … it was all inside my head but she was gentle and easy going and made me feel like I wanted it? She made me feel like I started it. Like there was actually something between us and –“, Sam stopped, clenching his fists to stop himself from shaking, “She was trying to get information and I was willingly giving it to her. Dean, I betrayed us, I betrayed everyone. Myself included.”

“Sammy you couldn’t have known. It isn’t your fault.”, his voice was soft.

“I should’ve been smarter about it.”

“Sam. Shut up. Listen to me. You couldn’t have known what she was doing to you. You didn’t betray anyone.”

“But I can’t even remember what I told her. Just – what I did. What she repeatedly made me do. I think – god, Dean, I think I enjoyed it.” His voice was quavering now, panic firmly taking its place in his eyes.

“Sam. Listen to yourself. You _think_ you enjoyed it. That’s not the case, alright? You snapped out of it. You clearly didn’t give her information that she wanted or else she would’ve killed you already. Sam?”

Sam’s breathing was short, fists clenched and nails digging into the skin of his palms. Sam lurched forward.

“SAM!” Dean tugged him back from the collar of his shirt, pulling him away from the edge of the cliff, “Sam. Look at me.” Dean took Sam’s hand in his own, “Sammy, listen to me.”

Tears were streaming down his face, “I’m sorry.”

Dean tugged Sam closer, letting him tuck his face into his shoulder, “Hey, hey, don’t apologize –“, his voice shook. Dean was angry, he was raging mad, he was so furious he wanted to track town the British bitch and tear her limb from limb. Sam didn’t deserve this, he didn’t deserve to be hurt like this, hurt at all. His baby brother had suffered more than people suffer in a single lifetime. He was a bright eyed boy once and Dean had done everything in his power to make sure the glimmer in Sam’s eyes stayed.

Nothing gold can stay. They envied him. Everyone envied Sam and his bright eyes and his happiness and his smile. So they did everything _they_ could to take it away.

“Lucifer.” He whispered slowly, “Reminded me of Lucifer.”

“We’re a good dis-“

“De – I, Let’s go home.”

 

By the time they got home, Sam was dozing in the passenger seat. Dean gave him a worried glance but was glad to discover that his brows were not drawn together as a result of recurring nightmares and his eyes did not flicker beneath his eyelids in panic.

Dean nudged him, “Sam. Sammy. Wake up man, let’s go to bed.”

Sam jolted awake and gaped at Dean in terror.

“Hey, man, you’re here, you’re home.” He soothed.

Sam fell back against the seat with a heavy exhale, “I forgot.”

Dean snorted, “That you were home?”

“That you were alive.”

Dean walked around to the other side and opened the door, offering him a hand and helping his baby brother’s sleeping form out of the car, “Yeah, well, I’m pretty much alive, and breathing, and in one piece – so let’s go to bed.”

Sam made an annoyed sound.

“What?”

“My bed.” He groaned.

“Yes, dumbass, that’s where we’re headed.”

“No, it – it smells like … your feet.”

Dean laughed, “My bed, then?”

“Your bed.”

\-----

Dean helped him to bed, tugged off his own boots and bent down to take off Sam’s, helped him get undressed and pulled the covers over him. He took out another blanket from his dresser and got ready to lay down on the floor when Sam made a sound.

Dean’s head poked up from the other side, “Yeah?”

“Get your ass up here.”

He stood there in his boxers, contemplating Sam’s request when he heard another mumble, “I can hear you thinking all the way over here.”

Shrugging, Dean climbed under the covers. Sam grunted in annoyance and pulled Dean’s arm across his chest, threading his fingers through Dean’s hand. He proceeded to tangle his legs with his brother’s and let out a sigh of relief once he was pressed firmly against his body. It was almost as if Sam wanted them to share body heat and draw strength from him. Like if Dean was pressed up right against him, it would hold the monsters and demons and memories at bay.

 

Dean waited for Sam to fall sleep. He watched his breathing even and for his heart to reach a steady beat beneath his fingertips. Dean had barely dozed off when Sam started to squirm and struggle. He sat up to soothe him from his nightmare and realized his brother was conscious.

“Sam?” Dean reached out to him.

Sam flinched away from him. Dean lowered his hand and watched with some amount of shock when Sam stared at him in alarm, “No.” Sam insisted.

“Sammy it’s me, man.”

“You’re not here.” Sam inched closer to the edge and stared through him. He started to shake his head again and again, refusing and almost snapping at his brother when Dean tried to console him. “I’ll tell you. Make it stop.” Sam urged, “ _Make it stop! Now! I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you.”_ He yelled.

“Sammy, _Listen_ to me!” Dean grabbed Sam by the wrist. Sam struggled against his grip, thrashing against the sheets, trying to land a punch. “ _Look at me!_ ”

“No!” Sam repeated, his fear and panic messing with his ability to fight, “You’re _not_ _REAL_.” His voice was shaking and tears were forming tracks, “Please just let me go. Just make this stop.”

“Sam. You’re home. You’re in the bunker. We’re home.” Dean loosened his grip to calm him but that gave him the window to escape. Sam rushed towards the door.

“Sammy _please._ ” Dean pleaded, “It’s me. This is real. I’m real.”

Sam stopped in his tracks. He turned slowly but started to back away when realization struck, “No. I know what you’re doing. You’ve done this before.”

Dean followed. Every step he took forward was a step Sam took back. Sam found himself backed into a corner. His hazel eyes flitted around the room, looking for an escape.

“Sam. Sammy look at me.” Dean’s voice was shaking with fear and agitation. He needed Sam to see that he was home. That he was safe.

“Sam. I love you.”

All fidgeting ceased. Sam’s glassy eyes connected with Dean’s and his tense shoulders slumped. He slid to the floor, his eyes never leaving his brother’s.

“I give up.” Sam murmured.

“Sam. You’re safe. You’re with me. It’s okay. It was just a bad dream.”

“But Toni …”

“She’s long gone, Sammy. You’re home.”

Sam slumped further, head resting against Dean’s shoulder, “I’m s-“

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s over.”

“It brings back memories. From the cage.”

Dean scrunched his eyes in a mix of pain and anger. Sam’s face flashing before his eyes and his baby brother’s horrified expression haunting him. He felt like he was four years old again and John had handed Sam to him and told him to run.

That’s what he wanted to do. He wanted to take Sam. Take this love, and run. Run far and fast and further from this life and its memories. He’d give anything to take that pain out of his eyes. Dean hugged him tighter and placed a kiss on his crown, whispering “I love you” again and repeating it once more for good measure.

They would run. Someday soon.

 


End file.
